Page 131 of Off Court Fix

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Fifteen minutes later, we end up at another house I haven’t seen before. Calling it a teardown would be putting it mildly. I follow Crosby’s lead and hop out of the car, walking beside him through the overgrown grass, tugging the sleeves of my sweater down to combat the cool air.

“This is... not very cute.”

Crosby laughs. “No, it’s not,” he says over his shoulder. “But the property is pretty great.”

“Great for what? We have two houses and not enough time to spend in them.”

“Not for you and me.” Crosby turns and faces me. “But for other people who need a little quiet and nature to... heal.”

I stop in my tracks. “Whose property is this?”

“Greta Carrington.”

“Should I know who that is?”

“No. And I didn’t know her either. She died two months ago. But I do know her daughter, who happens to belong to the club. She also happened to be very moved by your speech at the gala. It turns out, she’s an addict in recovery herself.”

I look around. “I mean... I’m not following.”

“You’re looking at the future site of the First Step Group’sfirstrecovery center for substance abuse.”

My mouth falls open. “What?”

“It’s going to take a good bit, permits, estate stuff to deal with, but I don’t know, maybe in a year we can open our doors?”

“We?”

Crosby nods, pushing his glasses up his nose. “They need a manager, someone to oversee everything. And I told Susan I’d give them a deal on my landscaping services.”

Turning side to side, I look out at the sprawling property. “You’d manage a rehab?”

“Well, when I wasfiredby you—”

“I never actuallyhiredyou,” I quickly remind him.

Crosby tilts his head side to side. “That’s true. And to be honest, I think your dad is probably the man for the job anyway, even if things will look different next season.”

I look down at the grass. I might be the only player in the history of tennis to have a manager—and father—banned from all my matches.

“This gives me something to do when I can’t be on the road with you. It’s going to need a lot of work.” Crosby takes my hand, pulling me along the lawn toward a large structure a ways away. “It used to be a horse property, and the barn is in better shape than the house. Maybe there could be equine therapy. Or they could use the space for when families visit, kids, I don’t know. I don’t really know much about all this stuff, obviously.”

I smile because even though Crosby doesn’t know much about it, he’sthoughtabout it, and I see how his mind has opened and his heart has softened.

“What happened tothat wholean addict is an addict is an addictspiel?”

Crosby shrugs. “Maybe I was too harsh because that’s all I knew.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “That might be it. Maybe you can teach an old dog new things after all.” That one earns me a pinch in my side before Crosby wraps an arm around my shoulders, tugging me closer.

“It helps that the one teaching this old dog happens to be his favorite treat.”

one year later

“Isthatit?” I shift, reaching over the console and snatching the magazine lying on the backseat. “I’ve been in this car for an hour and a half, and it’s been here the whole ride?”

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